


maybe i should cry for help

by lorene



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not hockey au, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorene/pseuds/lorene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*edited and reposted-8/21*</p><p>Dylan was tired. He really was. Not in a not-getting-enough-sleep kind of way but in a it's-time-to-let-go kind of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i should cry for help

**Author's Note:**

> did some (alot of) editing and decided to repost this fic. i like it alot better lol. 
> 
> so for the purpose of the story, mikey and dylan are super close, i imagine their not this close irl. umm yeah..we also have a overuse of commas its like not even funny.
> 
> title taken from "sail" by AWOLNATION
> 
> all mistakes are mine.

 

Dylan woke up to Connor pressing heavy kisses on the back of his neck, his arm heavily thrown over Dylan's shoulder. They were pressed up against each other, sleep warm and all too comfortable.  Dylan turned around so he was facing Connor but kept his eyes closed because he really  _ did _ just wanted to fall back asleep. Apparently that wasn't going to happen because Connor kept making little noises and sighs as if he were trying to get him to wake back up. 

 

Smiling, Dylan snuggled closer and sighed, still pretending to ignore his boyfriend. 

 

He suddenly jolted back when he felt Connor's hand slide down from where it was resting on his waist, down towards his stump, just feeling it. It was meant to be a sweet gesture, he could tell- but it made Dylan feel a little awkward. He’d hasn't really  _ touched _ it yet and Dylan wasn't completely sure if he wanted to he wanted to vomit or not. 

 

“I- sorry. Do you not want me to touch it?” Connor breathed out, apologetically. He sat up a little, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and Dylan watched him. 

 

“Um, no. I mean, it's fine...I just didn't think you wanted to.” 

 

Dylan muttered, sitting up next to him, slipping his compression cast off. 

 

It had now been five months since the accident, and Dylan hadn't been comfortable with the idea of Connor touching his stump, let alone  _ showing _ Connor his bare stump. 

 

It had been devastating, losing his leg. It changed his entire life, seemed to affect everyone around him and his and Connor’s relationship had hit an extremely rough patch. 

 

Dylan completely withdrew from everyone, embarrassed and haunted with a guilty nagging feeling he couldn't understand. 

 

They’d only started going to counseling a couple weeks ago, on a mutual agreement. 

 

But they were trying to get back into the old routine of things still, trying to adjust, both of them. 

 

Once his compression cast was off and thrown off to the side of the bed, Dylan tried to focus on Connor and not how ugly he suddenly felt. 

 

The scar of where they incision was made seemed to jump out loudly, at them, a painful reminder of where the rest of his leg had been. 

 

He watched Connor stare down at the remainder of his knee with somewhat nervous eyes, lifting one hand over his now-faded pink scar that curved down to the bottom of his kneecap, Connor’s cold fingers brushed the skin lightly and the other was hand fitting his palm over the curve that was the bottom of his stump. 

 

Dylan didn't mean to gasp so abruptly that Connor retracted his hands like he had been burned but he couldn't help it. His stump pretty much ached all the time, especially when any kind of pressure was applied towards the bottom where it rounded off. Sometimes, it still felt like his whole leg was still attached. 

 

Physically, that feeling was even more painful.

 

The doctors said that would go away...eventually. Connor blinked and once again apologized, “Sorry.”

 

“It not you, it's just uncomfortable for me...you know. Touching it, doesn't exactly feel good or anything.”

 

“I understand.” Connor said. He always did. 

 

“D’you want me to go get your meds or are you good for now?”

 

“No...let’s just stay here for a while.” Dylan murmured, feeling mentally drained already. He pulled the covers up back to his waist so he didn't have to look at his stump anymore. 

 

It was still early in the day, way too early- to his liking, to be dealing with his mess of emotions.

 

Connor laid back down. This time on his back, arms stretched over his head and a gummy smile starting on his lips. 

 

Dylan looked over his shoulder at him, the same bubbling sensation in his stomach still there, which he now recognized as butterflies and not wanting to puke. 

 

“...what?” He asked. Connor just stared back at him, grinning. 

 

He felt sort of...different today. 

 

That was good. 

 

He didn't exactly wake up in a bad mood today, no anxiety, didn't have any bad dreams last night- although he did have a bit of an episode yesterday, which he hasn't told Connor about. Didn't have the energy to. 

 

In general though, he mostly felt better about his situation. Dylan felt a little more grounded; almost back to his old self, though the guilty feelings haven't settled. 

 

His therapist had told him that was a normal thing, feeling guilty after something like this. 

 

“Quit thinking so hard.” Connor urged, hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling his down. 

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and gently flipped on his side so his weight was on his good leg.  He leaned down on his arm, and studied Connor’s face. The way his pupils dilated when 

he looked at Dylan; the content hint of a smile he wore; the fullness of his face that kept him looking so young. 

 

Dylan ran his free hand over the start of Connor ’s hairline, and leaned closer in to press a kiss to his forehead. Connor sighed and tilted his head up, eyes shut. He brought their lips together for a few short pecks that turned into longer, sweeter kisses. 

 

Connor wrapped his arms fully around his torso as Dylan carefully adjusted himself to lie fully on top of him. 

 

It’s been awhile since they did this, got this far- even if it was just making out. He missed this. 

 

Just then, the house phone rang loudly, echoing through the otherwise silent house. Neither one of them wanting to get up and answer it, they continued as they were letting it go to voicemail.

 

_ Hey guys- uh it’s me, Mikey. We uh... haven't heard too much from you two lately and wanted to check up on you guys so see how things have been.  _

 

Dylan pulled away to listen, ignoring the sad, almost sympathetic look on Connor’s face. He didn't think he could handle another one of those looks right now.

 

_ You know we are always here for you guys if you need anything...so…. uh- listen we are having a little cookout this  Saturday. It’s just going to be a few of the guys and I think Nater invited some of his family so it’s nothing too crazy. We would really like to see you guys sometime soon..so just give me a call back whenever you can and let me know if you wanna come or whatever. Alright, bye. _

  
  


Well, there goes the mood. 

 

Connor was patiently watching Dylan, as they listened to the message. He had an indent on the space between his eyebrows like he was deep in thought. 

 

“Do you um-” He cleared his throat. “...do you think you're ready to see them?” Connor asked. 

 

Not really. Well- he  _ wanted _ to see Mikey and Nate, of course he did but he didn't want to deal with the painful awkwardness and unfamiliarity that would surely come when people he’d known and had been close too for so long wouldn't know how to act around him. 

 

Dylan sat back up, “We can go if you want too. I’ll be fine, you know.”

 

“Okay...but you didn't answer my question.”

 

“I mean- look I don't know, Connor. Okay? Simple as that, I don't know.” He snapped and threw the covers off him with a huff, scooting down to the bottom of the bed where their little bench was. He swung his stump over the bed frame and lifted himself over so he could move to sit on the bench. 

 

“Dylan.” He sighed. He sounded tired. Not like a not-getting-enough-sleep tired but like  _ is-it-always-going-to-be-like-this-now _ tired.

 

Connor was now walking across the room to the dresser, throwing an old shirt over his head. He didn't say anything further, just pushed Dylan’s wheelchair towards him and left the room.

 

Dylan sat there for a second, taking his sweet time getting settled in his wheelchair. It's funny how things can go from nice and pleasant to tense and weird in a matter of seconds. 

 

Maybe that's how their life together was now. 

 

He felt his eyes begin to sting with tears but quickly held them back and took a deep breath. 

 

Before the accident, he hardly ever cried. 

 

Now, he was lucky if he could get through the day without breaking down at some point. 

 

Dylan wheeled out, still shirtless, arms shivering from the brisk morning chill.

 

“...Sounds good, yeah we’ll be there.” He heard Connor say. Connor was on the phone. There was a brief pause, Connor turned to glance at him then started walking out of the living room, lowering his voice. 

 

_ Great.  _ They were now probably talking about him. Dylan hasn't spoken to Mikey in five months. He  _ couldn't _ . 

 

He knew Mikey was worried about him, Connor always tells him how much Mikey asks about him. About his leg and how his PT was going, how therapy was going. 

 

He imagined their conversation right now, Mikey prying Connor, making sure they  _ both _ were coming, exactly what time they’ll be there, if they needed anything, etc…

 

The thing Dylan wasn't looking forward to the most was all the questions people would be asking him. 

 

_ How are you holding up? _

 

_ Are you feeling okay? How are things at home? With Connor? _

 

And the worst one-  _ You are so brave, I don't know how you do it. Good for you.  _

 

That one wasn't a question, but something he sure did hear a lot. 

 

He wheeled into the kitchen table, folding his hands on top of it and waited for Connor to come back. When he did, he seemed to be in a better mood. At least one of them was. 

 

“Aw, I’m excited to see them again. Mikey is really happy that you're coming, babe.” Connor beamed, then, “Want me to make you some coffee?”

 

“I cut off all contact with my best friend for months, he shouldn't  _ want _ to see me. I'm an asshole.” Dylan said. 

 

Connor smiled and proceeded to put the coffee on.  “Babe, you had something life altering happen to you-” 

 

He gestured to his stump. “-no one's angry with you because you went through an intense last few months. Plus you've been recovering and that's tough shit to go through. Anyone who is angry, wasn't your friend in the first place.”

 

For some reason, Connor was still smiling. Dylan frowned. “Listen, we're trying to get back to our normal lives here. Refusing to see or talk to anyone who isn't me or your therapist is not gonna get us there. You need to do this, Dyl. Don't make this any harder on yourself.”

 

“Okay. Yeah, I know.” Dylan answered, running his hand over his unruly bed head.

 

They sat there in silence for a beat, Dylan watched Connor as he proceeded to make some food for them and the annoying, nagging feel of  _ I'm sorry _ weighed down on his heart. 

 

Dylan knew he was difficult to be around sometimes, but he genuinely wondered how Connor could possibly be willing to put up with his shit still.

 

He knew Connor loved him deeply and Dylan- Dylan loved him more than anything in the world. He would take a bullet for Connor in a heartbeat. 

 

If Connor ever left him, Dylan couldn't even begin to think of what he’d do...

 

“Hey Connor…”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing, I just- you know that I love you.”

 

Connor smiled sweetly and came over to kiss his forehead, “I know.”

 

***

 

By the time Saturday rolled around, they headed over to Nate and Mikey’s place.

 

They lived far, on a little ranch by the countryside. Dylan was counting the number of horses and livestock he’s seen so far but it was hard to keep track after a while because eventually the cows became blurry shapes to him.

 

The car ride was pretty quiet and that was more than okay, they didn't need to fill the silence all the time. And Dylan had woken up in a good mood today, he wasn't in any physical pain. No aches, no guilty feelings nagging away at him, and he’d slept well last night. He felt  _ good _ today. 

 

They finally arrived, pulling into the gravel driveway. It's been awhile since he’d been here. 

 

Thinking of some of the memories, the good times he’s had here with Mikey, in the past made his eyes begin to sting. 

 

Just being here, felt somewhat bittersweet. 

 

It was a nice day. Everything was fine. Sun shining bright and warm. There was a slight breeze in the air which made Dylan want to sit there for a second and take it all in, but Connor opened his door, wheelchair in hand, folding it open. 

 

He helped him into it and once Dylan adjusted himself, he felt Connor 's hand on top his shoulder. He looked up at him, resting his hand on top of his and squeezed. 

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

They started up the little path to the door, when it swung open suddenly and a very dumb looking Nathan Bastian stood there, happy and loose, looking dumb as ever. 

 

“Well, well look who it is!” Nate shouted, skipping down the steps over to them. 

 

Connor laughed and took a couple of long strides to reach him faster and Dylan watched as they hugged tightly, clapping each other on the back a few times like they hadn't seen each other in a long time- when in reality, Dylan knew Connor was just over here last week. 

 

Connor’s face was buried in Nate’s shoulder and Dylan sat there a little awkwardly waiting until they pulled apart, Connor reached up and whispered something into his ear and Nate’s his smile faltered the slightest.

 

Dylan tensed as Nathan let go of Connor and walked over to him with a sad smile on his face and said, “It’s so good to see you, Dyl. ‘S glad you're here.”

 

He clapped Dylan a little too hard on his shoulder and leaned down to give him a quick hug. 

 

Dylan didn't know what to do other than pat his back and Nate burst out laughing again. “Same old Stromer, always hated hugs from anyone other than McDavid.”

 

Connor watched the two with such a big grin on his face, Dylan  _ almost  _ burst into tears right then and there. 

 

He definitely was  _ not  _ going to do that right now. 

 

Nater nodded his head and pointed towards the house, “Come on, Mikey is putting the meat on the grill.” 

 

As they went inside, two friendly chocolate Labradors greeted them, wagging their tails so hard their bodies were swaying back and forth. 

 

Dylan remembers Connor telling him about the dogs they just adopted a while ago, he’d almost forgotten about that. 

 

Connor bent down to pet them excitedly, and Dylan looked around. A wave of familiarity washed over him, put him at ease. That was nice.

 

Their house always had an an odd mix of grandma-ish, god-y and western decor. He remembered back when they’d first bought the house, how excited Mikey was to finally have a house that was all Nathan and his. 

 

How excited he was to decorate the place how he wanted, only for his mom to end up decorating because they were too exhausted from all the work that actually goes into moving for the first time. Dylan smiled to himself. 

 

The entire house smelled of barbeque sauce and smoke and Dylan realized how hungry he really was. He and Connor tried not to eat before they came, and it was already 2:30 in the afternoon.

 

They made their way to the backyard, which was a lot bigger than his and Connor's. The only way to get from the patio to the actual backyard was by stair, there was a painfully awkward moment of Connor and Nate figuring out how to carry Dylan down the stairs safely. 

 

Dylan wanted to cover his eyes, maybe disappear. That would be nice. 

 

Thank god they were the first and only ones here. He felt his cheeks heating up. How  _ embarrassing _ . 

 

“You okay, babe?” Connor spoke lowly, so only Dylan could hear once he was set down. 

 

He was- this was just one of those times it would be nice to have his full other leg. “Connor, no..I’ll just-can you get my crutches?” Dylan sputtered out. 

 

Connor quickly nodded and jogged back into the house. Nate, pretending not to have been eavesdropping, started chatting away on who else would be coming as he wheeled him just around the corner where their setup was. 

 

Mikey was singing along to a country song on the radio and didn't notice them right away. He even did a double take at them when Nate exclaimed, “Kids are here!”

 

Mikey's face absolutely lit up when he saw Dylan, tossed his grilling prongs to the side and jogged over to them. He practically tackled Dylan for a hug that was so  _ Mikey _ , he was _ not _ going to start crying.

 

“Dyl..Stromer!” Mikey cried. “I'm  _ so happy  _ you're here, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

 

He held onto Mikey's all too soft shirt, clutching it with eyes squeezed shut. He heard Mikey sniffle when they pulled apart, his eyes were a little watery and in that moment Dylan felt like the worst person alive. 

 

“Dylan, I can't even begin to- it's so good to see you.” He beamed, eyes still glistening with emotions.

 

The look on Mikey's face made Dylan’s stomach turn with guilt. He wanted to throw up. He didn't talk to anyone- _ including _ his best friend in the entire world for five whole months. Because Dylan couldn't handle life, couldn't handle himself. 

 

“Mikey…”

 

He put a hand in his shoulder, “It’s okay. You don't need to...you know. You're still my best friend. No matter what Dyl, you know that.” Mikey assured.

 

***

 

He and Connor were sitting at one of the picnic tables that were set out while Mikey and Nate ran around, a couple people he recognized as Nate’s brother and wife had arrived shortly after they did and were helping set up.

 

Dylan was making light conversation, while Connor was poking at the tablecloth. “Look, there's another loose thread.”

 

“Don't pull it out again, this isn't ours.” Dylan laughed. 

 

Connor grinned, studying the thread, “It’s okay, they would want us to fix it.” 

 

Dylan slapped at his hand, and he heard Mikey chuckle at them as came out to set some drinks out. 

 

“Mmh, I love you.” Connor said. He placed a hand on top of Dylan's thigh. 

 

“You too.” Dylan answered. “I...I'm sorry too.”

 

“For what?”

 

He ignored the way Connor’s eyebrows furrowed like he was genuinely confused. Dylan sighed, rubbing his face. Normally they wouldn't be having a conversation like this in public but they were the only ones outside and the others were in inside, doing whatever they were doing, so they had privacy.

 

“It's just been a hard time and I haven't exactly been making it easy for you, you know? I know I put a lot of stress on you and I just- I'm sorry for everything.”

 

Connor's face went from confused to upset. He didn't like seeing Connor upset. That wasn't what he was trying to do. 

 

“ _ Dylan _ .” Connor started. He tightened his grip on Dylan's thigh and leaned in even closer. 

 

“I feel like...you blame yourself for what happened or something. Like you don't have to be sorry for anything, okay? What you went through, was a traumatic thing for anyone to go through, and Dylan- I don't blame you. For anything, do you understand? None of this is your fault.” He paused and looked down at Dylan's stump. 

 

“And you don't  _ stress _ me out, I mean sometimes I get frustrated but that's just gonna happen sometimes. I mean, I'm only human. I will always love you, okay? More than you will ever know and…  I'm not just going to up and leave you because you lost one of your limbs.”

 

When he finished, Connor was a little out of breath. Dylan sat there for a second, listening-  _ really listening _ to what he was saying. 

 

Maybe, for once, it was _okay_ for Dylan to just- stop _trying_. Maybe it was time to move on and just accept it. Accept that- yes, he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time and he got caught up in a freak accident and had to end up having his leg amputated and this was his life now- as a _disabled_ person and sure, he made passerbyers and strangers uncomfortable, but he still had his family, still had Connor, still had Mikey and Nathan, still had his health. His _life._

 

Dylan was tired. He really was. Not in a  _ not-getting-enough-sleep _ kind of way but in a  _ it's-time-to-let-go  _ kind of way. 

 

Being here with Mikey and Nate, at their house with their  _ new _ dogs, the way the late sun painted the side of Connor's face orange, his  _ stump _ \- it just happened. It finally happened. Dylan let go and well,  _ cried. _

 

He actually more like  _ sobbed _ . Yeah, that sounded better. He was sure this was quite a picture. A emotionally drained, broken down, new amputee guy, sobbing uncontrollably in his boyfriend's arms on a picnic table that had a tablecloth with severe loose threads hanging off it. 

 

Dylan didn't care. It was nice.  _ So nice _ . 

 

Connor seemed to understand. That's one of the many things Dylan fell in love with him for, Connor  _ just understood him. _ Maybe that's why they were so in sync. Why they were so good together. 

 

Connor was holding him, petting his hair and just letting Dylan get his shirt wet and gross. 

 

A few moments later, Nater came over to the table with some plates and utensils in hand. “Uh, is everything okay?” 

 

Connor, keeping his arms wrapped around Dylan as he continued crying, “Yeah Nater, we’re great.” He said, it sounded like Connor was grinning. 

 

Dylan knew he was relieved. Knew he was finally getting it all out and that was good for him. For them. Dylan never good at expressing his feelings and it didn't come easy to him. 

 

“Oh, yeah- well I'm just gonna..” Nate said.

 

Connor hummed and squeezed Dylan tighter. He pressed a kiss in his hair, “I'm proud of you, Dylan. Love you so much.”

 

After several minutes, Dylan finally calmed down. He straightened out, and looked around him. A few more  people had arrived and were just hanging out outside. 

 

Connor let out a chuckle and wiped at Dylan's cheeks with his thumb, “Your face is all red.” 

 

Dylan laughed and blowed his nose on a napkin nearby. He took a deep breath and looked at Connor, who was staring at him with a content expression. So patient. 

 

“Your amazing.” He choked out, voice breaking a little. 

 

Connor rubbed his back and whispered, “Not as amazing as you.” 

 

He didn't think he deserved that comment but owed it to Connor not to deny it. 

 

***

 

Soon enough, dinner was ready. The group was mostly some of Nate's family and a few friends he hadn't seen in awhile. 

 

After his little breakdown earlier, Dylan was in such a better place both mentally and emotionally. In a weird way, everything seemed clearer to him. Like this was what it was like to be in a state of complete acceptance for yourself. 

 

He mostly people watched as the evening went on, made small talk with Nate's mom and dad and when they asked how he was doing, he said “I'm doing great, thank you for asking.” Because now it was  _ okay.  _

 

A couple hours later, people started to leave and not too long after than, it was just the four of them again. They’d cracked open a few more beers and maybe did a shot or two, it’s been awhile since he’d been drunk, he wasn't  _ too _ drunk though, it was the nice happy, loose drunk. 

 

They were sitting around the picnic table, just messing around and contemplating on who should help clean up when Connor- whose face was a nice shade of pink, pointed out the the loose threads on the tablecloth. “Haven't you realized that your tablecloth sucks?” He laughed. 

 

“Hey, this tablecloth was given to us by Nater’s grandma. Don't mess with it!” Mikey jokingly yelled, he tried to slap Connor’s hand away like Dylan did before but Connor moved away too quick so he reached across the table to try and push Connor off the bench. 

 

They wrestled around for a few minutes, knocking beer cans over and Dylan couldn't tell who actually ended up scratching his arm and leaving a small mark until Nate pulled the back of Mikey's shirt back towards him and told him to settle down. 

 

“What if I don’ wanna?” Mikey stuck his tongue out at him and squirmed away when Nater tried to catch it with his teeth.

 

“Ugh, you guys are cute, we get it.” Dylan teased. Connor was still breathing hard from wrestling and planted a sloppy kiss on the side of neck, “Hey, we’re cute too.”

 

“You guys wanna crash here for the night? Actually- why am I asking you? You guys  _ are _ going to crash here for the night.” Mikey said. 

 

“Yeah I'm a little  _ too _ drunk to drive.” 

 

“And I  _ can't _ drive.” Dylan said. And- he didn't mean to ruin the mood, he really meant it as a joke. 

 

Nate cleared his throat and thankfully said something that everyone laughed at. “Alright well, I'm tired. Someone help me get all this shit put away.” 

 

“I’ll do it, babe. Go get ready for bed.” Mikey offered. Dylan watched them, with a smile, as Nate pulled Mikey in for a kiss and stood up, trying not to fall over. “I’ll make sure the spare room is decent!” He shouted over his shoulder.

 

Mikey started clearing the table and protested when Dylan and Connor started stacking plates up. “You guys go get ready for bed too.” He winked.

 

The spare room was good enough, there was a nice sized bed and a bathroom, that was all they really needed. There were a few boxes stacked in the corner but Nate had shoved them further against the wall and apologized with a dopey smile that made his dimples appear. 

 

“We weren't expecting for you guys to stay.”

 

“No, it's all good man.” Dylan told him. Connor insisted on helping Mikey out back so it was just him and Nater. 

 

He plopped down on the bed, resting his crutches against the nightstand. Nate sort of stood there for a second, hands fumbling by his side awkwardly. 

 

“Stromer, I uh- I'm kinda drunk right now but I just want to tell you that I know you and Mikey are super close and me and you have never really been _that_ close but-” Nate paused. “I'm really glad that you came today. You know when the- when we heard about _it_ , Mikey was devastated. And when you decided to, you know not talk or see anyone, Mikey was just- a mess. I mean he was really heartbroken you know? You were always like a brother to him and he couldn't understand why you were being the way you were and...the point is, I’d never seen him like that you know?”

 

Nater wasn't looking directly at him, but just over his shoulder, to his right. 

 

“And I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad or anything, I just want you to know that Mikey was  _ always _ ready to be there for you- and he’ll always be there for you.  _ Please _ just, don't ever shut him out like that. I can't stand to see him upset.”

 

Dylan nodded and looked down at the bedspread. “Nate- I know. Trust me, I  _ know _ that. And I regret the way I handled the whole situation. I wouldn't intentionally hurt Mikey or you for that matter, I was just going through a lot emotionally and didn't know what I was doing.” 

 

Nate let out a sigh, and sat down on the bed next to him, “I could understand that, you know that I'm here for you and you  _ know _ Mikey's here for you. We love you man.” Nater smiled and ruffled his hair. 

 

When Connor came back, he looked at them with questioning eyes. Mikey poked his head in the room, “I just came to say goodnight and to steal my boyfriend from you.” He told Dylan. 

 

“Come here.” Dylan held his arms out for a hug and Mikey came over to squeeze the shit out of him. He pushed Dylan onto his back and laid right on top of him in with a sleepy grin. 

 

Dylan groaned, “Mike, ge’off! You're gonna suffocate me!” 

 

Mikey laughed and hauled himself up, stumbling a little when he got back in his feet. Connor reached out to steady him as he passed by to go to the bathroom. 

 

“Alright, night guys.” Nater yawned, throwing his arm around Mikey and redirecting him towards the door. Mikey clutched Nater’s waist and leaned into him as the left the room. 

 

Dylan adjusted himself on the bed, scooting up so he was leaning against the pillows, slipping his shoes and socks off. 

 

Connor came back out and sighed tiredly, “They didn't have any spare toothbrushes so that part sucks.” 

 

He came to lay beside him, shoving his pants off so that he was just in his boxers and tshirt. He was talking about something, Dylan honestly wasn't paying attention. He just kept staring at him, grinning. 

 

Connor finally settled in bed and stopped to look at him, “What?”

 

“I just love you so much.” Dylan answered. He leaned into kiss Connor, not just for a soft kiss though, but for a somewhat messy, hot, wet kiss that had a sense of urgency they hadn't had in awhile. 

 

When they broke apart, Connor was panting slightly and when he saw the fire in Dylan's eyes, he jumped forward, knocking Dylan on his back completely, unbuttoning his jeans. They were both drunk, it was sloppy, but that was okay. 

 

It should have probably felt weird having sex for the first time in  _ months _ with Connor in someone else's house, but it didn't. Or maybe they just didn't care. 

 

Because  _ this _ was too much about them.

 

With what started out slow, their movements became a little rushed, and they weren't totally prepared but it was also kinda perfect. 

 

Dylan didn't flinch or gasp in pain when Connor touched and cupped the bottom his his stump with his hand because it was  _ okay _ .

 

Because this was  _ Connor _ . 

 

This was  _ Dylan and Connor. _

 

When they both finished, Connor pushed himself off of Dylan and rolled into his back. “That was so good.”

 

Dylan laughed and reached up to switch the lamp on the nightstand off. “Yeah. We need to catch up though, make up for lost time.” 

 

Connor chuckled, still trying to catch his breath and rolled onto his side, letting Dylan spoon him. Feeling particularly brave and a little careless, Dylan threw his thigh over Connor’s hip and let this stump sort of...rest there. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“That's okay right?” Dylan asked. 

 

“Of course.”

 

***

 

The next morning, they came out to the living room where Mikey was curled up on the couch with a coffee mug, watching the news.  Dylan could see of of their dogs out in the yard, trotting happily and sniffing away at the grass.

 

“How’d you guys sleep last night?” 

 

“Good.” Dylan rasped. He wasn't too hungover but he did feel a little nauseous.

 

Mikey turned down the volume and made a face, “Yeah,  _ I know _ .”

 

Connor blushed and hung his head, looking embarrassed. Dylan just shrugged and mumbled, “Shit happens.” Which made Mikey shake his head. “We’re gonna have to burn the sheets.”

 

“Where's Nate?” Dylan asked. Connor got up to get them some coffee. 

 

“Nater’s still asleep. I was thinking if you guys wanted, we could go out for breakfast.”

 

“Yeah sounds good, although we need to stop by the house to change and all that.” Connor said. 

 

Mikey narrowed his eyes, “Yeah I  _ bet _ you need to change..”

 

Connor pretended to be watching the TV, suddenly looking all to interested. 

 

“Go wake your boyfriend up so we could go.” Dylan prodded, trying to reach over for the remote. 

 

“No, he's sleeping. He needs his sleep.” Mikey cuddled back into the couch and laid his head back.

 

“ _ Oh _ well, what did  _ you  _ do last night then, huh?” He challenged. Mikey just rolled his eyes, “Nothing, it’s not exactly sexy when you can hear what's going on in the next room and  _ someone _ was being kinda loud.” He coughed out Connor’s name and Connor turned even brighter red. 

 

“Mikey, stooop!” Connor whined. 

 

Dylan grinned and folded his hands behind his head. “Are you at all hungover?” 

 

“I mean, I'm not dead y’know?” Mikey shrugged. He visibly jumped when a door slammed and their other dog walked out grumbly. 

 

“Aww did your dad kick you out of bed?” Connor cooed as the dog jumped onto the couch next to him and promptly climbed into his lap. 

 

Just then, Nater joined them on the couch, looking just as grumpy as the dog. “What's up, want some?” Mikey offered his cup to him. 

 

Nate nodded and set the cup down on the floor so he could lay his head in Mikey's lap. “Did you tell them we know what they did last night?” He mumbled. 

 

“Yeah, Connor's embarrassed.” Mikey told him, petting the side of his face sweetly. 

 

“We are still here you know.” Dylan interjected. 

 

Nathan lifted his head slightly so he could look at them, “Man, you guys have  _ no _ shame!” He joked, laughing, then wincing at his head. 

 

“I told ‘em we’ll have to burn the sheets.”

 

“Burn your sheets, we’ll just come back and do it on your new sheets.” Dylan added. 

 

Nate flipped him off and went back to resting his head in Mikey's lap. They sat there watching the news for a little while more in a comfortable silence. Dylan turned to face Connor, who was cooing the dog in his lap and petting him to back sleep. “He seems to really like you.” Dylan told him. 

 

“I know, I love dogs. We should get one.” He said hopefully, widening his eyes. Dylan smiled, “We can get a dog, whatever you want babe.”

 

The look on Connor’s face, the love, the understanding, the genuineness made it all worth it. 


End file.
